


En Prison

by bzarcher



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Consequences, Hacking, Hedging Your Bets, Max is on HIS side, Past Violence, Precautions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 11:58:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18521068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: Maximilien deals in probabilities, influence, and manipulation - but is all too aware he can be manipulated as well.Lynx-17 thought they had all the answers, but in one instant, it all went wrong.After losing everything, would you dare roll the dice one more time?





	En Prison

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the "Overlooked" zine, and I was given permission to post it after the zine failed to meet it's deadline. With what we've learned about Max in Storm Rising, I think it works rather well with the established canon.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Sir? Your guest is here.”

Maximilien nodded to his assistant. “Please, send them in.”

The immaculately dressed man nodded, putting a hand to his earpiece as he murmured instructions to the floor team below, then focused his attention back on his employer. “Will there be anything else?”

Max turned away from the balcony overlooking the gaming tables with a minute shake of his head, making his way over to his desk. “Nothing else tonight, Claude. Just ensure we’re not disturbed.”

For all that he enjoyed the noise and flash of the floor, there was something quite pleasant about his quiet, well-appointed office. It gave an air of calm that he often appreciated at times like this. A sense of presence, and power.

Had his faceplate allowed it, he would have smiled as he settled into his chair. He kept his hands folded just so on the desk, head cocked at an angle he knew his guest would instantly read as slightly disinterested boredom when they entered.

He might need their help, but there was no sense in tipping his hand.

It amused Max to simulate a few possible versions of the meeting, based on available data. How they might react to his posturing. How they might open the conversation. How likely they were to accept or reject the offer he would present.

He prepared for every outcome, but he even if he could not gamble at the tables, Max didn’t place bets without knowing he could cover them. He was quite confident in the outcome of this wager, even if it was far more complex than a simple roll of the dice.

_If they were going to say no,_ he thought after a final review of the odds, _they would not have come. They may require convincing, but it is simple enough to give them a reason to agree._

_After all,_ he thought to himself as he noted the elevator rising up from the casino floor, _we have so much in common._

The heavy oak door opened, and his optics flared as Max focused his attention on his visitor.

“That’s quite theatrical,” the blue and green clad omnic observed as they drew back the hood that had concealed their face and protected their long “ears” from the rain outside. “Was it really necessary?”

Max shifted his body slightly, changing his posture to one of amusement. “I _am_ in the business of entertainment.”

The omnic’s ears flicked up and to the side, their voice taking on a dry note. “I believe that on paper, you claim to be in the business of hospitality.”

“You have a point,” Max admitted as he rose and offered a smooth bow. “Thank you, then, for accepting my invitation.”

Lynx-17’s acknowledging nod was a guarded one, which came as no surprise. “I’m not really in a position to turn down a paid vacation. Particularly given my… difficulties, after my last client.” Their posture stiffened, their ears shifting forward. “Not many people are willing to entrust information to someone they know was compromised.”

“Unfortunately,” Max agreed as he walked along the windows that looked out over the floor, tapping his fingers lightly against his side. “I imagine it was quite difficult to find the vulnerability she used to attack you.”

“Hah. You think she only used _one?_ ” Lynx’s voice dripped acid, their ears falling flat against their head.  

Max examined their reflection, giving the slightest shake of his head before he turned to face them properly. “I do not mean to insult you. If anything, I am… sympathetic.”

Lynx’s entire body radiated shock. _“_ Are you saying…?”

Max tilted his head without admitting anything aloud. After all, even in his most secure place, one never could be too sure who might be listening. “I should think it would be much easier to work with another subject, rather than having to test such things on yourself.”

“Yes,” Lynx admitted slowly, their interest clearly piqued. “Most certainly. But what do you get out of this, besides the obvious?”

“Do you truly think _she_ is the only one who would be capable of such things?” Maximilien turned back to the window, scanning the floors, watching the flow of bodies, cards, chips, and plaques.

“Do you truly think _I_ would be afraid of _her?”_

He could hear the footsteps as Lynx moved around the office, examining the windows, the desk, the bookshelves filled with volumes left by the previous owner. The subtle trophies he had kept from battles fought long ago.

“Yes,” they finally answered. “But not for who she is. For who - _what_ \- she represents. The loss of control. The loss of yourself.”

His hands tightened into fists, and suddenly the floor beneath him was not the well-tended garden of a casino, but the cracked and broken streets of a burning city. Smoke clouding his optics, the smell of carnage still fresh. Following directives as he sought out information, identified targets, highlighted weaknesses, with no thought but to execute another’s will.

“I have served,” Max said in a low, quiet voice, “and been _forced_ to serve. Never again.”

Lynx had stopped their wanderings in front of the desk, one finger tracing the almost imperceptible grain of the dark polished wood. “I’m not terribly interested in gambling. Or your… other business.” Their ears fell lazily to the side, twitching slightly as a cheer came from the roulette table below. “To put it bluntly, your ‘friends’ suck.”

Max forced himself to relax his hands, but there was genuine amusement in his soft laugh as he turned away from the window. “At times. But they have their uses.”

“If they’re so useful, why come to me?” Lynx’s optics brightened as they leaned forward, their interest clear.

_Ahh, I have you now._

“Because while they have vision, it is… incomplete. They do not account for all the variables in the equation.”

Lynx hummed with understanding. “So they’re assuming a few things that they shouldn’t.”

Max inclined his head. “I feel it is wise to cover _all_ my bets.”

“Then this… 'project’ is purely a personal one.” They seemed to relax at the realization Talon would have no part of their work, the slightly guarded stance slowly opening.

“Very much so. But I believe we both have something to gain from it.”

Lynx’s optics flickered, the hacker perhaps running a few calculations of their own. “True enough. So when do we get started?”

A silent command ensured the doors to his office were locked, and a series of shutters closed over the windows as Maximilien settled into his chair once again, ensuring their privacy before he loosened his tie and collar. “No time like the present, is there?”

“I suppose not.” Lynx took a seat across from him, linking their personal networks so they could begin their investigation.

As he felt their probing begin, Max let his optics go dark, his systems coming down for maintenance to allow better access. His conscious thoughts began to fade as the many processes of his mind began to halt or pause until it was time to wake.

_Let Akande have his war, and Sombra play her games._

_When this is finished, I will have an ally who they can no longer tamper with, and I will be prepared for the fallout of their schemes, win or lose._

Few people understood why the house would let you have one last wager after going bust.

It was about so much more than money, really.  

When one had lost it all, who could resist one last chance?

_And one way or another,_ he thought as he passed into sleep, _the house always wins._


End file.
